A long time ago, someone told me that life is always hard, but those with the hardest lives have the best results.  I used to believe that couldn't be true.  I mean, look at rich people; they're able to buy anything they want, they can do anything they want, and they get almost everything they want.  I was quite naïve.
    I grew up in a small town in Western Massachusetts.  Far from the bustling nature of Boston, but not quite a farm town, Amherst was the center of college life this side of Worcester.  With three colleges right in town, and three more a short distance from, there was always something going on.  I was brought up in a very small household.  We owned our own home, but were not even close to well off.
    My father was the head chef in a local restaurant while my mother worked in a travel agency.  She was able to give away the dream vacations she'd always wanted for herself, but only on a couple rare occasions even allowed near a plane herself.
    I had been born just before my mother turned nineteen.  Just out of high school and working at the restaurant my father had then run, she went from daughter to wife over-night.  Never a chance for her own life caused my mother to be loving and supportive, but anxious for my brother and I to be on our own so she could finally have time for herself.  She never made this clear to us, but I could always read it in her eyes.  We had been close for my whole life.  She was my best friend and my conspirator.  She was amazing.
    My father was always busy.  Ten years her senior, he had been long over his college immaturity.  Working all the time, trying to keep our family from worrying about food, clothes and possessions, he rarely had time to share with us the one thing we did lack; love.  I knew it wasn't his fault, but it still left us feeling alone.
    Tall and dark haired, my father was handsome.  His job, working over the heat of a stove and the busy environment left him rugged and strong.  Unlike the chefs of popular American television, dad was nothing close to over-weight, instead naturally muscular and attractive.  I loved the idea of looking like him when I grew up, even though he had a sort of funny shaped face.  I knew that his hard-working nature helped in making him so attractive, so maybe that's why it rubbed off so easily on myself.
    My mother was as attractive as a woman could be.  She had long, very golden hair.  It was so silky and soft that she invoked envy in every woman she met.  This isn't an exaggeration.  Within ten minutes of meeting her, every woman commented on how beautiful her hair was.  Her blue eyes were intense and like spotlights.  She seemed to be looking deep into you, studying your very soul whenever she looked your way. You couldn't help but feel like she knew your every thought.  She was relatively short by today's standards, but stood tall.  She worked out often, so her body was in good shape.  For thirty four, she looked nothing over seventeen.  I suppose this helped in making her more like a sister than a mother.
    My parents hardly seemed to be around each other in front of us.  I think the only times we were together as a family were weekends and vacations.  Weekends usually consisted of me chatting on the phone with my many girlfriends or working on some school project or another.  Saturday nights were reserved for the family, though.  Mom and dad would get us all dressed up and take us out to eat.  My little brother would always get upset, but I enjoyed being with them all.
    By the time I was fourteen, I had discovered that the reason I'd always felt so different was that I was gay.  I hadn't known the word or been able to associate it with myself for a long time, but I'd always known.  At first, I felt very odd.  I couldn't compare myself to the gay people I saw in the media.  I didn't slur my speech, want to be or dress like a woman, or flick my wrist.  I wasn't effeminate or into strange sexual behavior.  I didn't want to sleep with everything that moved, either.
    Figuring that I was the only one like myself, I imagined it was just a phase.  I fancied that by the time I was older, I would forget men and be completely into women.  Hell, they had better fashion sense and were more fun to be around anyway.
    Around this time, I was entering ninth grade.  High school was a lot different than any other grade I'd been in.  Even though in my school, changing into the high school setting didn't really occur until tenth, we didn't have enough room to fit all four in the high school building at the time, the difference between eighth and ninth was still great.  Suddenly, classes and grades were more important, and difficult.  Your GPA was also very important.
    I found myself in the guidance counselor's office more often.  He was a great guy, though.  Openly gay, and someone I would soon find out was a good role model.
    As time moved on, I learned that he was 'married' to a man, and that they were about to celebrate their fourteenth anniversary.  This impressed me, as well as impressing upon me.  I soon found that looking to him helped me to re-evaluate myself.
    It was also around this time that I first met Mathew.  Being thirteen, but still in my grade, Mat wasn't your average thirteen year old.  He was bright, and very commonly had a smile on his face.  He had moved to Amherst over the summer, and had already made himself well known and liked in our school.  Living on the other side of town, however, I had only just met him.  He knew my friend Jenn, and they got along really wonderfully.  Our little group began to think more would come of them than just friends.
    I found myself around Mat a lot.  I couldn't get enough of him.  We had loads in common, and we could talk for hours without boring each other.  He loved music, and played the piano.  This was something I had always wanted to learn, so he grew in my eyes.  He also could sing better than anyone I knew.  His grades were amazing, which was to be expected of someone who could jump a grade.  Many of the teachers thought he should go even further, possibly skipping high school altogether, but he wouldn't hear of it.
    As time and our friendship moved on, I felt I wanted him to be the first one I told about my feelings.  For weeks, I tried to think of a way to tell him, what he might say, how he might feel.  I ignored my obvious feelings for him, pretending I just liked his friendship.  Little did I know, but the rumors of potential relationship had shifted from Mat and Jenn to Mat and Andy.  As it came closer to my coming out, Mat grew a little distant.  He seemed to be avoiding me a little, so I backed off.  I nervously worried that he thought I liked him, and that it would ruin our friendship to come out now.
    Months passed, and it was summer again.  Things slowly became normal again.  Mat was over my house, or I would be over his.  We spent most of the days on his parents' boat, which they would graciously let us use, and cruising up and down the Connecticut River.  Often times, Jenn and our friend Julie would join us for some water skiing or tubing.  They were some of the greatest times we'd ever had.
    On one of the occasions when it was just Mat and I, we found ourselves on an island that was very obviously used for parties on the weekends.  Since it was a Tuesday, there was no one to disturb us as the sun set and the cool night air creeped around us.  We built ourselves a fire and continued talking late into the night.  Eventually, we figured it was too late to set out for home, so Mat produced a mobile out of his knapsack.  We called our parents and informed them we'd spend the night on the island.  His mother was worried, but he convinced her everything was fine.  He was a very self assured young man, and even his parents couldn't help but trust his opinion.
    Mine had no problem with it.  I had always been fourteen going on fifty to them, so trusting me was only second nature.
    Talking and laughing until almost two in the morning, we finally decided to get some sleep.  Mat's birthday was coming up, and for his fourteenth his parents were taking him to see his cousins in France.  He would be gone for a month, which was a painful idea to me.  When he'd fallen asleep, and his light snores were the music in my ears, I couldn't help but sit up with my head on my palm and watch him.  He was facing me, and therefor the fire, so the light bounced off of his lightly tanned skin.  His dark hair, silky and gleaming in the firelight, seemed like it was spun by God Himself.  The smooth skin of his face had but one blemish, a very light birthmark to the left of his left eye.  It was the shape of a small asteroid, and only seemed to make him more beautiful.
    Since there were no blankets, I could see his full body.  His arms were folded over his chest, and the lightly haired arms were also tanned and beautiful.  I watched as his chest moved in and out with his breathing, causing his shirt to wrinkle and tighten.  My eyes moved lower to his white shorts.  They weren't very revealing, as they were baggy.  I continued down to his bare legs.  They were as lightly haired as his arms, and smooth as could be.  The tan seemed to exist on every visible part of him.  His feet were smallish, and very cute for feet.  I don't think I could see one thing about him that I didn't like.
    Eventually, exhaustion took me and I fell asleep.  I dreamed of Mat and his birthday.  I dreamt of going with him to Paris, and what I might give him for his birthday.  I dreamt of his smooth legs, and the cute feet.  I dreamt of what his chest might be like and what it would feel like.  I dreamt of his body against mine and our erections playing together.  I don't know how long I was asleep, but when I awoke the sun was out, but only barely.  I felt something in my shorts, wet and sticky, and knew I'd had a wet dream.  Embarrassed, I looked over to see that Mat was still sleeping.  He'd actually shifted to his other side while he was sleeping, so I knew he wouldn't know of my predicament.
    I quickly got up and went down to the shore.  Pulling off my shorts and my underwear, I rinsed my underwear off in the water.  Since I couldn't put them back on, and I didn't want to explain everything to Mat, I sat on the shore with only my shirt on waiting for them to dry.  Since I didn't know what time it was, or how long I'd been asleep, I should have wondered how long it would be for Mat to wake up.  However, I forgot and was taken completely by surprise when Mat's voice piped up in my ear.
    "Morning."  I whipped around to face him, my penis and lower body exposed to him.  He got a look of slight surprise on his face, and I must have turned bright red because he just smiled and tried to stifle his giggles.  "Well, this is quite a surprise.  Good morning there, young sir!  I've not seen you around these parts before!"
    My face was burning now, and little Andy couldn't help but perk up at the address.  My embarrassment was growing, and I felt like I was going to cry.  Mat noticed and his face quickly straightened out.  "Hey, no harm bud.  I'm sorry."  He walked over and put his arm around me.  "I was only teasin' ya.  Calm down."  His voice was soothing, and had its usual effect on me.  I was back to myself shortly.  Little me however...
    "Sorry, Mat.  I had..."  I didn't take too long to think, and quickly decided that finding me like this was more embarrassing than what brought me here.  "I had a wet dream, so I had to wash my underwear."
    "Oh.  Is that all?"  He smiled, his arm still warming my shoulders.  This wasn't doing anything for my hard-on, which was still hoping Mat would talk to it again.  "I have those a lot.  I never get a chance to jerk off, so I don't think I have a choice."
    "You jerk off?"  I was surprised.  Somehow I'd convinced myself that Mat wasn't into sex in any way.  I think it was partly my way of keeping sexual thought about him out of my mind.
    "Of course!  Don't you?  God, I think everyone does!"  He laughed a little.  I looked over to him, finally able to look at him again, and caught him looking down at my crotch.  He looked back up, his face blanching a little at being caught, and smiled.  "Sorry, but he's really begging for attention.  I guess I just couldn't help it."
    "Umm, it's okay."  I blushed a little, and tried to cover myself by pulling my legs up to my chest.  At least he couldn't see it, I thought.  "Sorry.  I don't know why it won't go away."
    "Don't worry, dude.  I'm not doing any better."  At that, he motioned for me to look down at his crotch, which you can bet I did, and I saw that his shorts were quite tented.
    "You're hard!"  I couldn't believe it.  I had truly convinced myself that his penis was only for urinating, and the idea of him being hard was really getting to me.  I was starting to think about things that I had tried so hard to keep my now fifteen year old mind from thinking about Mat.
    "Yah, I am.  I can't help it."  His face was intent now, and I knew that he was about to kiss me.  I was really nervous, and started to worry that this would be a bad idea.  My worries didn't stop me from enjoying the feeling of his lips against mine, and opening my mouth when his tongue asked for entrance.  They also didn't bother me when his hand moved to my legs, pulling them apart and moving slowly down towards my crotch.
    Our kiss was growing more and more intense, our virgin bodies wanting what we were doing more than our virgin minds.  We were both filled with pent up desire, the need to be physically intimate with another man strong in our souls.  Our faces parted only briefly as we both madly took off our shirts, leaving me naked and him on his way.  We kept on kissing as his shorts and underwear came off.  My dreams of the morning were coming true, as I moved from his lips to his chest, licking and kissing my way all over.  I felt like I was mapping his chest with my tongue, exploring every millimeter with purpose and tenacity.  I could hear his heart, and feel his chest rise and fall faster and faster as I continued my ministrations.
    As I continued exploring his chest, I helped him feel more pleasure by playing with his erection.  My hands did as detailed an exploration of his crotch, ass and legs as my tongue did to his upper torso.  He was starting to moan, which only drove me wild.  After a few more minutes, he whispered, "You have to stop."  I ignored him and kept on.  "No, Andy.  You have to stop or I'll cum.  I need you before I cum."  He forced me off of him, laying me on my back and kissing me again.  Inbetween kissing me and feeling me everywhere, he said, "I ... don't know what we're doing ... and I don't know how I'll feel about this ... after ... but ... right now ... I love you."
    Admittedly, I would have preferred 'You're the only one for me,' or 'I want you forever,' or something like that, but what he said was honest.  It had the effect of making me fall ever deeper for him.  I realized that over the course of our friendship, I had been falling in love with him and keeping myself in denial.  The fear of losing him and the fear of others finding out had driven me to hide who I loved from even myself.  Now, what we were doing was allowing me to release a year's worth of pent-up lust.
    Without stopping his decent to my crotch, I moved so that my face was next to his.  Just as he took my young cock into his mouth, I took his.  We took each other's virginity at the same time, both feeling our cocks in an other's mouth, and an other's cock in our own for the first time.  Moving up and down, stroking each other with our tongues and hands, feeling every part of one another as much as we could, it was the most intense moment of my life.
    After what seemed like the shortest time, we both exploded into one another.  His cum filled my mouth and, surprised, I swallowed it completely.  He also swallowed mine, and suckled me as I did him.  After a few minutes, we both pulled away, turning to be head to head again.  As if with one mind, we both pulled into each other and wrapped ourselves with our own love.
    I awoke again a few hours later with my head on his chest.  I could tell by his breathing that he was awake, so it didn't surprise me when I heard his gentle voice in my ear.
    "I think we're in trouble, Andy."  He was on the verge of crying, and thus, so was I.  I knew what he was going to say, and I knew that he was right.  "We can't do this again.  I can't do this again."  He wasn't pushing me away, nor was he trying to hide the fact that it hurt him to say what he was.  He wasn't denying being gay, he was denying the truth of it.  "I do love you, but we can't be this."
    "I know."
    The rest of the summer, like the rest of high school, was lived in a state of denial and frustration.  We both knew how we felt, and we both wanted the same things, but neither of us were willing to break the other's vow.  I never told anyone of what happened that day, nor did he.  We didn't change our friendship, and we never felt uncomfortable.  We were too much in love for that to happen.  As time moved on, senior year approached.  Half-way through, I became too busy with school and college prep to spend too much time with him.  I didn't even know where he was going to college.  Neither of us had ever had a girlfriend, and the rumors that we were together still lingered occasionally on the light wind of high school gossip.  We never denied it, but we never acknowledge it either.
    On my eighteenth birthday, my parents and friends threw me a huge bash.  They rented a hall and invited practically the entire school.  How they'd kept it from me, I still don't know.  I guess when people love you, they make sure things work out for you.  Mat's parents even came, which was the first time I think that many of his friends had met them.  This was also the first time Mat and I had been around each other for anything but studying in months.  Even so, I didn't have much time alone with him.  It wasn't until an hour or so in, just before I was to open presents, that he and I got to talk.
    "Hey there, stranger."
    "Howdy."  I smiled warmly, wishing for nothing but a kiss.  I watched his tanned face as he spoke, his sparkling eyes as enticing as they were the first day I met him.
    "It's been awhile, Andy.  I feel like we've lost touch."
    "Well, it's been busy.  I've had to make sure I was all set for college.  I have to have the best grades, or I don't get scholarships.  Without those, it would be, 'College? What's that?'"
    "Yah."
    He looked down, obviously needing to say something.  I reached over, hooking my index finger under his chin and lifting it.  He just looked at me with tears in his eyes, and my heart couldn't take it.  I looked around to make sure no one could see and leaned over to kiss him.  Three years had passed since we'd kissed, but I hadn't forgotten how much I loved kissing him.  At first, he resisted a little, but after only a moment he was returning the kiss.  We found ourselves pulling into each other, our bodies as close as possible.
    I pulled back, breaking the kiss, and looked into his eyes.  "Is it time yet?"
    "Yea, I think it is."
    "Thank God."